


Don't Play Around

by T_WolfXD



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: AU, M/M, Songfic, read my tumblr for more info
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_WolfXD/pseuds/T_WolfXD
Summary: Michael reminisces on a music-filled night, years in the past.
Relationships: Purple Guy/Mike Schmidt
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Don't Play Around

**Author's Note:**

> A songfic for The Other Side (https://youtu.be/Wk008ADh4iY), because the idea wrapped around my foot and refused to let go.  
> Consider it a break before the next part of A Beautiful Day and Night-
> 
> Thank you for stopping by!  
> Also posted to my tumblr, find more info about my works there: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fnaficsfordays

Two years ago, in that dingy, run-down pub. Two fine, sweet, summery years ago. That was where he’d first laid eyes upon him.

_Right here, right now, I put the offer out,_

Sitting right down on that bar piano, long fingers pressed on the painted white keys. Light notes slid through the air, winding around the clinks of glasses and bottles. It’d been quite a while since anyone else, let alone a newcomer, had taken the seat that normally belonged to him.

_I don’t wanna chase you down, I know you see it_

Yet the sharp words of rebuke and demand had never gotten a chance to leave his throat, as he had taken in the stranger’s disposition. Mauve hands as delicate as his own, sliding along the wooden pedals with the gentlest breeze as he’d played. Dark-hued ponytail hanging over his shoulder as he leaned forwards ever so slightly, back stooped so close to the piano. How could Michael have done anything but clap as soon as he was done, to the beauty of seeing and hearing his own song played by someone else?

_You run with me, and I can cut you free,_

Although, his eyes remained narrowed as their gazes had met, despite his softening frown. Moments had passed until he’d snapped out of his daze enough to extend an arm, grasping the man’s fingers in his own with a firm handshake. His silky smooth touch reflected nothing less than the music he’d played.

_Out of the treachery and walls you keep in_

Michael barely even remembered the greeting between them- had there been one audible enough at all? All he saw was the grin that had formed on his face, silvery eyes flashing with interest. The pub had all but fallen completely silent, all eyes staring at the two.

_So trade that typical, for something colorful_

But the moment was over soon enough, after a few questions and short introductions. A half-joking apology for taking his place, and a name. _Vincent_.

_And if it’s crazy, then live a little crazy,_

Their interaction had gone by in a blur, yet as a memory it all moved in slow motion. Inquiry about his music? Then his status in the bar? He’d initially thought the tension would linger on as strongly as it started, yet conversation struck up between him and the stranger as quickly as his fingers had moved across the keys.

_You can play it sensible, a king of conventional_

And then… oh, _then_. They’d played a song together.

_Or you can risk it all and see…_

He’d hoped he wasn’t the only one struggling to focus on just the music, unable to stop the fleeting glances he’d given, as much as he tried to stay on track. But the feeling of sitting so close on that small piano bench, barely two inches of space between them, fingers ghosting each other’s skin for a split second before being pulled back to the keys… his heart raced so badly in a way that playing alone never did.

_Don’t you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play,_

It simultaneously felt like a few years and a few seconds had passed by the time they were done, the cheers of the customers around them ringing through his ears. He’d barely enough energy to respond to Vincent’s compliments after the chatter had faded back.

_‘Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride,_

A few more minutes ticked by with a few more questions. Michael had mainly talked about his learning of such skills and the abnormal hue of his skin, while Vincent had… well… more substantial inquiries. He’d little knowledge of just how to respond to his comments, finding his mouth dry every time those silvery irises fell back onto himself. But how was he to form an answer when asked about the minimum pay of his job? Or at being told that someone like himself could find much better?

_It’ll take you to the other side!_

The subject had been dropped as the night went on. But slowly, customers and chatter had faded out as the skies grew darker, stars shining brighter. Midnight chimed and Michael got ready to slide down the cover over the keys and bid farewell.

_‘Cause you can do like you do, or you can do like me,_

However, the so-called ‘farewell’ rapidly turned into just a secondary greeting.

_Stay in the cage, or you’ll finally take the key!_

Vincent had continued their talk as everyone else filtered on out- yet the room had seemed so full, vision tunneling as he found himself unable to look away. He was barely even remembering the conversation at all.

_Oh, there, suddenly you’re free to fly!_

That man was silky with more than just his fingers. A business card for an orchestra? A neatly-written phone number pushed into his hands? Suddenly Michael faced offers he could never have imagined from within that musty pub he’d played at ever since he was a teenager.

_It’ll take you to the other side!_

Head, heart, and everything in between sent spinning at his advancements. It was all so far away. Moving out of his apartment, packing a suitcase and essentially running away from where he’d grown up his entire life? All for a sweet-talking, smooth playing stranger?

_Is this really how you like to spend your days,_

No. The answer had to be no. What other logical choice was there to be made?

_Whiskey, misery, and parties you play_

Yet the persistence had stayed. Vincent hadn’t given up, not letting his grip on his fingers fade. Or was that his own hand unwilling to let go?

_If I were mixed up with you, I’d be the talk of the town_

He didn’t know.

_Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns_

Yet with the tiny voice of hope growing louder with each beat of his heart, the slips of paper feeling heavier in his fingers, his thoughts slowing the longer he stared into his eyes...

_But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little,_

Maybe...

_Just let me give you the freedom to dream a little,_

If only...

_Wake you up and cure your aching,_

To put his curiosity...

_Take your walls and start unbreaking,_

To rest...

_Now that’s a deal that seems worth taking!_

Perhaps he could just…

_But I guess I’ll leave that up to you…_

Say _yes_.

_Don’t you wanna get away to a whole new part you’re gonna play,_

Any possible doubt or anxiety dissipated the moment he saw his grin widen. There was no turning back, and for once, Michael had no regrets.

_‘Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride,_

However, he’d be lying if he’d tried to deny the fierce blush of embarrassment that had flitted across his cheeks as soon as he’d agreed. As well as if he’d claimed his mind hadn’t completely shut down the moment he was being tugged forward by the tie, their lips crashing together.

_To the other side!_

That was two years ago, and Michael hadn’t set foot back inside that bar since.

_So if you do like I do,_

And now, he was sitting at a much sleeker bench, pencil lightly tapping against his chin as he stared at his latest composition. It was still late at night, still in a room barely lit up by a single lamp, golden glow against his back. Neat and orderly stacks of chairs and stands dotted the rest of the rehearsal room, the place only almost empty.

_So if you do like me,_

Next to him, a familiar pair of silvery eyes stared at him softly, that smile not having changed once throughout all the seasons. Nor had his violet-hued fingers, pressed down lightly on the pearl-white keys. One hand lifted up in the corner of his vision, warmly brushing back a stray lock of hair from his face.

_Forget the cage, ‘cause we know how to make the key!_

“Something on your mind, Mikey~?”

_Oh, there, suddenly we’re free to fly!_

“Heh… just memories.”

_We’re going to the other side!_


End file.
